During a routine anatomy scan during pregnancy, Michael’s parents were told their unborn baby had congenital pulmonary airway malformation (CPAM), a rare condition causing abnormal tissue growth in the lungs. They were also warned their son might not survive. 

The next morning, Michael’s parents arrived at Johns Hopkins Maternal-Fetal Medicine for extensive testing. Doctors discovered both a solid mass and a fluid-filled mass in Michael’s lungs, each dangerously large and impacting his breathing. The care team explained if the growth could be slowed and the excess fluid reduced, Michael might have a chance at a good quality of life. 

Michael’s mother was admitted for four days of intensive medication treatment, followed by additional appointments for testing and monitoring. On the anxiety-filled day of delivery, a close friend waited nearby with memory-making items, prepared for the worst. 

Before Michael’s birth, doctors drained fluid from his lungs in utero to give him the best possible chance to breathe. When he was delivered by C-section, he cried—and the room filled with emotion. 

Michael first underwent surgery to remove the lung mass and he was then placed on extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO), a heart-lung bypass machine. He coded that night and remained on ECMO for 17 days. After coming off the machine, he coded once more. Throughout his time in the pediatric intensive care unit and neonatal intensive care unit), teams worked together seamlessly, supporting not only Michael but his entire family. 

Today, Michael is a joyful 3-year-old. He’s meeting his milestones and he loves dinosaurs, trucks and trains—but most of all, his sisters. He is thriving with no significant respiratory issues. 

Michael’s story is one of expert care, teamwork and hope. We can't wait to see you at the starting line in September as you help us make miracles for kids like Michael.

Marisol’s life changed the Friday before her first day of school in 2025, when doctors at Johns Hopkins Children’s Center diagnosed her with Type 1 diabetes (T1D) and diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA), a serious and sometimes life-threatening condition resulting from diabetes. What should have been a time of excitement and new beginnings instead became one of fear, uncertainty and a completely unfamiliar reality for her family. 

Her parents were worried and overwhelmed. Marisol spent several days in the pediatric intensive care unit before moving to the general pediatrics floor. During that time, Marisol’s family was surrounded by nurses, dietitians, fellows, residents and attending physicians who provided knowledge and compassion during one of the most frightening moments of their lives. 

Through meetings with the hospital team, they received reassurance on multiple levels —Marisol's diagnosis was not their fault, that she should be able to live a normal life, and that they would have the resources to handle this new normal. Her family learned about carb counting, insulin and medical supplies. At every step, they never felt rushed, dismissed or alone. 

After discharge, Marisol’s endocrinology team continued to check in, even calling on weekends to review her blood sugars and offer reassurance that things were moving in the right direction. They provided information about support groups for children and families dealing with diabetes and remained a steady support system. Johns Hopkins continues not only to help them navigate Type 1 diabetes clinically, but also to be the emotional and practical support needed. Their guidance means everything. 

Marisol’s parents rely on MyChart messaging regularly to ask questions and get timely advice. Even routine days can be unpredictable — Marisol can eat the exact same meal at the same time two days in a row, dose the same amount of insulin and have completely different blood sugar results. Johns Hopkins has been crucial as they navigate different activities and the inevitable variability of blood sugars. They are always encouraging , assuring they are doing a good job, and reminding them it’s okay when her blood sugar spikes and how to remedy the situation. 

Recently, questions arose about soccer and how physical activity can cause Marisol’s blood sugar to drop. The team advised how to monitor her on the sidelines—juice box in hand and ready—and helped mom and dad feel confident managing her during practices and games. This summer, Marisol looks forward to soccer and swimming, attending camp with her brother and sister and going to Johns Hopkins’ Camp Charm City, a summer camp for kids with diabetes. She recently went on her first school field trip to see a play and participated in field day at school. She is so excited to meet buddies who also have T1D at diabetes camp. And though her family may not have every logistical detail figured out, they know Johns Hopkins and their amazing team will be with them along the way, reminding them they will be okay. 

At 20 weeks into her pregnancy, Lori and Brian were devastated when an ultrasound revealed complications with their unborn baby, leading them to plan a delivery at Johns Hopkins Hospital. By 35 weeks, Lori was told that their son, Wyatt, had stopped growing and would need to be delivered via a cesarean section.  

The delivery was surreal; despite the stress, the calmness of the operating room staff helped ease their fears. When Wyatt was finally born, Lori initially didn't hear him cry, instilling worry until his scream filled the room— “one of the happiest sounds of my life,” she recalled.  

Though the birth went well, Lori couldn’t see Wyatt for several hours. He had low oxygen levels and feeding issues, which required him to remain in the Johns Hopkins Children’s Center Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for 21 days, while she was discharged after five.  

In the following months, Wyatt was diagnosed with optic nerve hypoplasia, marking the beginning of many health challenges that required regular visits to various specialists. He faced several medical issues including Lennox-Gastaut syndrome, hearing loss, blindness, chronic lung disease and more.  

In the years that followed, Wyatt also experienced multiple stays in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) due to acute respiratory distress syndrome. Each hospitalization required significant care and advanced support to help him recover and regain stability.  

The Pediatric Palliative Care team and the PICU became integral to Wyatt’s care by supporting the family in addressing Wyatt's complex needs holistically. Today, 10-year-old Wyatt is a joyful presence, and his parents see him as a living miracle, hopeful for what the future holds. “We don’t know what’s left in his story,” Lori shares, “but we do know that it’s going to be big.” 

Check out Team Wyatt's fundraising page, and register today to join Wyatt, Lori and Brian at the starting line on race day, September 26, 2026.